The Red and the Gray

by James Babbs

I’m really good at it
sitting at the kitchen table
gazing into the dying light
I see the red and the gray
mixing together in the sky
and there’s a half-emptied bottle of wine
on the table next to my glass
I reach over and slowly
pour myself another one
feel the heat crawling on my face
thinking about
how most things don’t really matter
the sound the sump pump makes
coming from the laundry room
down in the basement
reminds me of an elevator
moving up through the floors
the light on the pole outside
switching on automatically
it shines across the dead grass
lights up my whole back yard